First Glance
by fiblets5
Summary: When Damon first met Elena. Flashback from Season 3 Episode 22. Damon POV. One-shot.


Damon Salvatore had lived long enough to know what he liked. He liked expensive things. He liked his comfortable expensive black shirts and jeans that hugged his ass just right. He liked leather jackets so soft they'd make a coal miner cry. He liked his Camaro. He liked sleeping in the best fucking sheets money could buy. He liked to make beautiful women moan and he liked to drive with the top down and he liked to end the day with a heavy glass of bourbon in one hand and an old worn hard-bound book in another. He liked coming and going when and where he pleased with no one nagging him for information. He liked his high-rise apartment in New York City. He liked loud bars overcrowded with people where he could snatch, eat, erase without hardly any effort. He liked being the one in a crowd of people with a secret that no one would ever know. He liked being a predator. He liked the power of knowing he could snap any neck in the room and be gone before anyone was the wiser. He liked being uncatchable.

So why was he here?

Here.

This awful, one-horse town with nothing but awful memories that refused to fade.

Mystic Falls. Nothing mystic about it. Just a crap town with crap people. Always had been, always would be.

Yet somehow it was the axis around which the rest of Damon Salvatore's world turned, and he was drawn to it like a magnet. It had haunted his dreams, danced at the edges of his waking consciousness for decades. He had always known he would have to return, but this time he hoped it would be for the last time.

His enhanced senses made him acutely aware of the loose gravel that dug little dimples into his italian leather jacket and the back of his head. The road felt cool from the wetness that now glistened only in a few of the deepest grooves, the last hints of the rain Damon could still smell in the trees. The dirt smelled wet as well. Rich, wet, dark. The forest extended out in either direction as far as you could see, seemingly still, but alive with the faint sounds of birds and bugs and whatever else. His ears took it all in, tuning nothing out. He breathed in and out, if only because breathing on his back while lying on the ground felt different than breathing in different situations, and novelty was nice for someone who had been living for 169 years.

Beyond the trees, just around the bend in the road, he could hear the faint sounds of a party. Some kind of high school bonfire. He could smell the telltale smoke, the cheap beer sloshing around in red plastic cups, the overdoses of fruity perfumes and one-note colognes not doing enough to cover the scent of arousal. If he closed his eyes he could see it all. Awkward bodies alive with hormones standing too close to each other. Light and shadow playing on their faces. Hearts racing when they touched. _Teenagers_ , he smirked.

He heard one heartbeat separating from the crowd, moving slowly closer in his direction. He focused on the footsteps moving in an uncertain and definitely not straight line. Step step, pause. A toe hitting the pavement and a rock skittering away. More steps. Another pause.

A very drunk teen wandering off on her own? Heartbeats, Damon had learned from decades of being acutely aware of them, were all different. This one definitely belonged to a female. Healthy, but small. He'd guess no more than 115 lbs. He sighed lightly. A drunk teenager would be such an easy target, but such a small one might not be worth the trouble.

He'd wait for a car.

The heartbeat was fast, erratic. Not fast enough to be panicking, not like the way they beat when they looked into his eyes and knew they'd been caught. But maybe fast enough to be angry? Teenage girls were always finding dumb things to be angry about.

He heard the flip of a phone, buttons being pushed. Now he tuned it out. He had absolutely no desire to hear the whiny phone conversation of a drunk, angry female. He stopped breathing and let his body go completely still, lungs and heart pausing. They were unnecessary anyway.

Comet, amulet, spell.

Comet, amulet, spell.

This had been his quiet mantra, marching through his lucid thoughts with increasing urgency as the time grew near. The comet would be shooting over Mystic Falls in a matter of months. The amulet he was on the hunt for, and if he didn't find it before, he had reasonable certainty it would be on display at the Founders Gala and he'd find a way to steal it. Two out of three were in his reach after decades of waiting.

Comet, amulet, spell.

"I know, Bonnie, you're right. You and my mom both are."

The voice cut clearly through his thoughts and startled his eyes open.

 _It couldn't be._

He _knew_ that voice.

"I just couldn't bring myself to tell him. At least not tonight."

There was something off about the inflection, but he would know that voice anywhere, could pick it out of a crowd. That voice had played through his mind more constantly than even the mantra or his memories of Mystic Falls. That voice accompanied by those impossibly large brown eyes crowned by long dark lashes was burned into his consciousness. He felt the hand that belonged to that voice trail down his chest as certainly as if she'd been in front of him.

But she was in the tomb. _Wasn't she?_ Some mixture of panic and blinding delight turned his neck towards that voice.

There she was.

She was inexplicably dressed like a modern day teenager, a casual henley and jeans combination that he never would have dreamed she'd deign to wear, and her hair was straight, but it was _her._

This wasn't exactly how he'd planned on seeing her again, she'd never seen him in all his vampire glory and he had played the moment over and over again in his head, the way she would look at him when he saved her from her stony cage. Her savior. He'd kneel in front of her and reveal his vampire aspect, midnight veins dancing under blackened eyes, while his fangs unsheathed themselves under his lips. She'd look at him, and see who he was, and he'd look at her, his glorious monster self mirrored in her, and they would know that all they needed was each other. They'd spend the next thousand years ripping each other's clothes off and conquering whatever corner of the world they decided on.

But this would work too.

He blurred to her, impatient to bridge the gap between them.

"Katherine." He breathed, in the husky voice saved just for her. He realized he was nervous. Always the predator, with Katherine he was the prey.

Something was off. His heart had awakened, surprised into pounding hard and loud, and it threatened to distract him. But her mouth was set in a pout, too sweet and innocent to be _hers_. Her eyes opened wide into his and they, too, were different. Missing something. He heard her heart pick up its pace as her eyes met his, a reaction he was used to getting from women.

 _Human women._  
 _Her_ heart never pounded. She had no use for hers and had silenced it long ago.

He had always wanted to hear this kind of response from Katherine. A hitch of breath, a speeding heart, a racing pulse. He had forgotten that need when her hands were on him, her lips, her hips pushing against his. But now, faced with an inexplicably but undeniably human Katherine, he realized what he'd been missing.

He wanted to hear more of that heartbeat.

He wanted to sleep next to it and hear it pick up when he touched her, entered a room, called her name. He wanted to be aware of every way her body responded to him.

He was suddenly aware, in front of human Katherine and not vampire Katherine, that he might be in danger of revealing himself. He had blurred over here, from the middle of a deserted road, and was staring intensely at a stranger. He tried to rearrange himself, to stand nonchalantly.

She turned nervously to look behind her, back towards the high school crowd.

The phone was quiet in her hands, conversation ended, but her fingers hovered, hesitating, over the keys.

"I'm Elena."

Damon tried to process this, to shake it off.

"Oh." He shook his head, just slightly. "You, you just look...:"

He wanted to keep her talking.

"I'm sorry. You just really remind me of someone." He put on his most subtly charming smile and edged closer to her, extending an open palm in what he hoped was a calming gesture, enough not to seem like the dark creepy stranger in the road.

He licked his lips lightly. Women loved his lips.

"I'm Damon."

Her eyes slid up him, but not the hungry, admiring way so many other women had before. Her heart and her face seemed to have a disconnect, because her eyes narrowed and the corners of her mouth turned down.

"Not to be rude or anything, Damon" He couldn't ignore how she said his name. He missed that voice saying his name. "But it's kind of creepy that you're out here in the middle of nowhere."

He wanted to hear her say his name again.

"You're one to talk. You're out here all by yourself." He almost winked at her, but stopped himself. He wondered if she saw it anyway,as he saw her mouth start to twist up in the hint of a smile.

She spread her arms wide. "It's Mystic Falls. Nothing bad ever happens here."

He wanted to laugh. He hadn't laughed in so long and this innocent girl with her pink henley and modest but sensual lacy white tank top nearly surprised a laugh out of him with her naivete. She had no idea. A beat of silence hung just a moment too long between them, and he realized he was staring.

Somehow the moment, as well as her own proclamation about the safety of her town, seemed to loosen her up. She swung the hand holding her phone suggestively. "I got in a fight with my boyfriend." She bit her lip and looked up at him through those long eyelashes and something jumped deep down inside him.

"About what? May I ask."

He was used to feigning interest in girls, for the few minutes he needed to before compelling them to enjoy being his snack, but he found himself actually interested in her answer. He felt something inside his caveman brain rear up protectively at the mention of a boyfriend. Did the guy need to get punched? He could always use the satisfaction that came from a good old fashioned face punch. That satisfying crack of bone… made only more satisfying knowing that his knuckles would be healed by the time they hit the floor while their jaw would take much longer.

Her answer was too innocent and pure to warrant a punch.

"Life, the future. He's got it all mapped out."

She looked away from him and he watched her face with actual fascination.

"And you don't want it?"

 _Say you don't. Say you're too good for whatever meathead Mystic Falls loser had the dumb luck to be called yours. Say you want out of here and you're looking for the first ticket. I could show you a good time. I could show you things that would make your toes curl and your eyes light up._

"I don't know what I want."

"Well, that's not true." If her bodily functions had anything to say about it, she wanted what was standing in front of her. But you can't tell a girl that. Especially this girl.

"You want what everybody wants."

She tilted her head towards him and _God_ , he could've sworn it was Katherine, even now. That innocent face was nothing but a facade, hiding a goddess. She knew exactly what she was doing as her hair fell forward and slipped across her collarbone. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widened and then focused on his, under fluttery midnight lashes. A few strands of her hair danced in the light breeze and the moonlight shone brightly on her, highlighting every perfect contour of her face. That face, Katherine's face, knew how beautiful she was and made anyone talking to her feel breathlessly, stupidly lucky.

Her mouth teased him, "What? Mysterious stranger who has all the answers."

Was she flirting with him?

What a turn of events.

This time he actually did laugh, turning his face so he could catch a breath and stop his whirling head before turning back to her.

This moment was too much.

He was back in town on a rescue mission, to save Katherine after 150 years of captivity, and found himself face to face with some mysterious teenage human version of her, and was immensely enjoying the conversation. Within moments she'd gone from being nervous to being open and vulnerable to being flirty. He'd soaked in every minute with all his senses, smelling her faint sweetness under the bonfire smell weaved into her clothes, almost hiding the very beginnings of arousal. His eyes melted into her big brown ones. Her voice danced in his ears. But mostly he was aware of her heartbeat.

Was this what it had been like when Katherine had met him? His instant attraction had been just as obvious, he was sure. She'd been the predator then, with 350 years of life experience. And he'd been a wide-eyed 24 year old boy, thinking he was a man because he'd been off to war and returned to tell the tale.

He looked beyond her, into the sky. "Let's just say I've been around a long time. I've learned a few things." He gave her a playful smirk, and she returned it.

"So, Damon" there was his name again, on those sweet pink lips, "Tell me. What is it that I want?"

He found the courage to step closer to her. The words that came next were carefully chosen, words he had never said to anyone else. Words his heart knew were true about him. And he wondered if they were true about her. He hoped so.

"You want a love that consumes you." He said it slowly, deliberately. Another step. "You want passion, and adventure", he was drinking courage from the light in her eyes. Her breathing had stopped and she was hanging on to his every word.

He was close enough to hold her.

"And even a little danger." He narrowed his eyes at her for just a moment, to see if the word would scare her. She seemed momentarily uncertain, like she wanted to look away, but she didn't. She wanted it, every word.

And for the first time, since the last time he had seen Katherine, he had met someone he wanted to give all of that to. He didn't think that would ever be the case again.

Granted, she could be Katherine's twin. That might have something to do with it.

She hadn't backed away, but held her ground in the same space as him.

"So," she challenged. "What do _you_ want?"

A breath escaped him while he fought the bizarre urge to sweep this strange _teenage_ girl in his arms and carry her far, far away. He was saved by the honk of a horn as a car - that he _should've heard coming,_ if he hadn't been so _distracted -_ made it's way around the corner. She turned towards the car and he steeled himself.

He had come to Mystic Falls for a reason, and while he determined to find out why on earth this woman was the _exact_ twin of the 500 year-old love of his life, that particular task needed to be bumped down on his to-do list. Priorities, Damon.

"That's my parents…"

When she turned back he was ready, even closer than before, and his eyes locked on to hers.

The words slipped out of his mouth quickly, with low, throaty forcefulness. "I want you to get everything you're looking for. But right now I want you to forget that this happened. I can't have people knowing I'm in town yet."

He let his eyes travel over her face one last time, resting last back in the dark brown pools of her eyes. "Good night, Elena." Her name felt like honey on his tongue.

And he vanished.

Damon Salvatore had lived long enough to know what he liked. He liked many things, but in his 169 years he had only loved one woman. He had returned to his cursed birthplace to set his plan in motion to free her, and had met her absolute clone. And he sure as hell was going to get to the bottom of it.


End file.
